The thoughts, called bees, stung me to festering:

And they will all prove sad enough to sting !

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Of the Greek whistler, who to wharf and mart

For multitude and thirst of sweetnread.99csw.comesses;

A THOUGHT ay like a flower upon mine heart,

My soul so, always. foolish counterpart

Of a weak mans九九藏書 vain wishes ! While I spoke,

Your best and gladdest thoughts but long enough,

The thought I called a flower grew net九_九_藏_書tle-rough

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Whereat rejoicing, I desired the art

Oh, entertain (cried Reason as she woke)

Could lure those insect swarms from orange-trees